


it's midnight give me some starlight

by zxrycyan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Fluff, Friendship, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Muggle! AU, Pranks, Remus has issues, Young Marauders, angry little child Remus, but they end up happy!, cuteness, mentioned child abuse, so does Sirius, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrycyan/pseuds/zxrycyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Remus was sent off to secondary, hair brushed neatly and messenger bag laden with books, he promised to keep out of trouble. He'd study hard, make at least one friend, and never try to collect scars the way he used to, the way other boys collected cards. And then, of course, he met Sirius Black and James Potter, and that first promise flew happily out the window, tipping its hat and taking an elaborate bow in the process. </p><p>To be fair, to be absolutely fair, it wasn't his fault - he'd only been trying to keep out of the line of their destruction and gotten sucked into a whirling hurricane instead. Remus didn't think he'd been quite so happy in a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by Likewise Variable by ssstrychnine, which is amazing if you haven't read it, and according to my memory the first line is taken from there. Thank you @ssstrychnine for letting me post this and for your amazing work! The wolfstar only comes in later as they grow older, and there'll be some James/Lily. It's a WIP but I've already got the next chapter written, it'll be posted soon. Hope you enjoy! :)

Remus had been an angry child. It was anger without direction, without purpose; a roaring, spitting fire that kept his heart pumping and his bones brittle. In school, he got into fights, collected cuts and bruises like other boys collected cards, threw chairs and tore worksheets and bit when the adults held his arms back, little teeth sinking so deep they drew blood.

His father was called every time, his face drawn and pale, the disappointment tilting his lips making Remus’ chest clutch and something inside him shrivel bit by bit. He’d been expelled six times in as many years, and each time it was harder to find a primary that would accept him. 

The third time that happened, his father dragged him, kicking and screaming, to a child psychologist. Her name was Mary. She had a bright smile, dyed-brown hair and slightly squashed features. He punched and scratched, bit and yelled until fear replaced pity in her eyes. 

The second one lasted a little longer, perhaps three sessions or so. He was kind and calm and, in the end, utterly unhelpful. Remus lost his temper around the fifth time he was told to ‘count to ten and take deep breaths’, so he counted to ten, took a deep breath and kneed him in the crotch. Needless to say, Remus hadn’t been back.

His father refused to give up, even though they could barely afford it. A third, a fourth, and then -- Ramona. She asked about his favourite food (he bared his teeth and did not answer), his hobbies (fighting), his extra-curricular activities (none) and his friends (he went quiet). Then she told him about herself, her husband and two-year-old daughter. She told him all about how much she loved baking (brownies were her favourite), even though she always got flour all over the kitchen, and how she used to have anger management issues like him (she once broke a boy’s wrist back in sixth grade). 

Solemnly, she gave him a bar of chocolate and told him to break that whenever he felt like breaking something. Told him to bite it and imagine calm spreading through him like the taste of cocoa on his tongue. Told him that it had worked for her a long time ago, and that he mustn't be impatient, because “It could take weeks, or months, or years, Remus, to tame that dragon inside your chest,” she’d said, laying a hand over his beating heart. “But when you do, it means you’re special in a way that no one else is.” 

And somehow, that struck a chord.  _ Special _ , not wrong, or freakish, or scary. He could be special, and that made him want to try. He still lashed out at her sometimes, especially on bad days, trying his damnedest to pull out her hair and bruise his knuckles on her face. When he couldn’t, he’d turn and smash a fist into the table or the rough wall; sometimes he’d throw his whole body at it. He collected scars like other boys collected cars. 

But Ramona never yelled at him, or pitied him, or told Lyall Lupin that his son was too much for her to handle. She never made Remus feel like he was a problem she had to fix. At the end of the sessions, she’d always clean him up gently and tell him she’d see him next week. Even if her hair was in disarray and her office a mess, she’d tell Lyall that they were making good progress. And maybe it was that reassurance, that steadfast faith, or maybe the look of hope on his father’s face -- Remus didn’t want any of it to stop. It was easier to keep up hope than to keep away disappointment. It meant that he had second chances, that there could be success after failure. 

The day after his eleventh birthday, the day after his father brought him to the theme park and he’d counted twenty-four for the number of days he hadn’t lost his temper, Remus stood in front of the telly and declared, “I’m going to get a tattoo in the shape of a dragon. Right here.” He laid a fist against his chest, where he could feel his heart beating strongest. “It'll mean I’ve conquered it. I’m a dragon tamer.”

His father smiled, eyes shiny with tears, and pulled him in for a gruff hug that squeezed the breath out of his lungs.

“Alright, my son,” he said, voice deep and hoarse, “I’m glad. I’m glad you’ve conquered it.” 

Remus can never be sure if his father had entirely understood, but the support warmed him nonetheless. From that day, he kept chocolate on him at all times, a reminder and a just-in-case, and drowned himself in books. Fantasy, mystery, adventure, science and sappy romances -- he read them all. 

When he’s sent off to secondary, hair brushed neatly and messenger bag laden with books, he promised to keep out of trouble. He would study hard, he’d make at least one friend, and he’d never get expelled again. 

And then, of course, he met Sirius Black and James Potter, and that first promise flew happily out the window, tipping its hat and taking an elaborate bow in the process.

To be fair, to be  _ absolutely fair,  _ he hadn’t sought trouble out; it had just seemed to find him. See, he knew those two boys were trouble. They spelled it out in big, flashing neon pink letters, with their uproarious laughter and flippancy towards authority, and it was absolutely  _ not his fault  _ that, in trying to keep out of the line of their destruction, he’d gotten sucked into a whirling hurricane instead.

In the third week of school, Sirius Black and James Potter tried to prank him. Nerdy, bookish little Remus Lupin.

It was a harmless prank, mostly, just a bit of humiliation and a bucket of water intended to be upended on him. They were boys, and eleven, and downright terrible at hiding; Remus could hear them sniggering from a mile away. When he stepped round the corner where they’d been waiting in ambush, he casually sidestepped and pulled Sirius Black into the line of fire - or water - instead.

And then he’d left them there, Sirius dripping wet and both of them gaping in shock. If he smirked to himself afterwards, well, no one saw him. And technically, he  _ had _ been Keeping Out Of Trouble. No one could place the blame on him in that situation; it was entirely Sirius Black and James Potter’s fault. 

The next day, when he put his bag down on his usual table and sat down at his usual seat, he was immediately accosted by the Infamous Duo. 

“Pads,” James Potter said seriously, and Remus would have laughed at the strange name if he hadn’t been so bewildered, “Do I spy me a new Marauder, or do I spy me a new Marauder?”

“Prongs,” Sirius Black replied just as grandly, and someone really needed to teach those two how to come up with better nicknames, “I do spy us a new Marauder.”

Then they grinned, and it was a little eerie how completely in sync they were, each of them wrapping one hand around Remus’ arms to pull him out of his seat. 

“From this day forth,” Sirius announced, “You are a Marauder. Chaos is our motto-” 

“-and Boredom our eternal enemy. Your codename shall be…” 

They both narrowed their eyes at Remus, probably trying to look contemplative and ending up looking nothing but myopic.

“Moony,” James declared. 

“Moony,” Sirius agreed immediately. “As mysterious as the dark side of the moon.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh, at that point. The two of them were silly and ridiculous, and he had, on occasion, envied that unbreakable bond between them. Anyone with eyes could see how close they were. Remus had never had a brother or a sibling at all, but sometimes he had-- 

He had wished.

“Moony,” he tried the name out, but it didn't sound any less ridiculous than when the other two boys had said it. “Is yours really Pads, or is it short for something?” 

Sirius Black puffed up a little, tilting his chin up and saying proudly, “Padfoot.”

“What does that even  _ mean _ ?” Remus asked incredulously.

Sirius shrugged. “Ask James. He came up with it.”

Remus looked at James.

“Does it have to mean anything?” He asked, too cheerful and much too pleased with himself.

Remus huffed out a laugh. “I suppose not,” he conceded, and said to himself, half disbelieving and half exasperated, “ _ Moony _ .”

He shook his head. Well, if nothing else, at least he’d fulfilled his promise to make some friends.

(So maybe it  _ was _ a little his fault that James and Sirius became James and Sirius and Remus. Like, maybe 3% of the blame was on him. Only that bit.) 

\---

His father was worried when he told him about James Potter and Sirius Black and all the trouble they got up to. Worried that they would lead him astray.

“They won’t do anything bad,” Remus told him, “They’re normal eleven-year-old boys. They just want to have fun.”

His father’s face scrunched up the way it always did when he wanted to argue, but he glanced away (at the photograph of all three of them, Remus’ mother alive and Remus no older than three, he knew without looking), looked back and sighed. “If you say so.” 

“I do,” he said, and he was so rarely insistent on something like this that his father sat back and smiled. 

“I trust you, Remus.” He touched a hand to his shoulder. “Always remember that.”

Remus will never forget.

\---

They absorbed Peter Pettigrew into their fray because he looked sad and confused instead of angry after Sirius and James pranked him (Remus looked on from the sidelines and played lookout, because he was the one the teachers were most inclined to believe and he could distract them with questions about classes and homework).

“I feel like I just kicked a puppy,” Sirius stage-whispered.

James nodded furiously.

Never let it be said that the Marauders were cruel.

“Why not make him one of us?” Remus suggested, shrugging.

James hummed and Sirius hmmed and they exchanged glances that Remus couldn’t read.

James picked up a broken branch from the ground and held it up like a microphone. “Peter Pettigrew,” he declared.

Peter nodded uncertainly.

“If we were to ask you to be a Marauder.” 

He paused. Peter tilted his head uncertainly.

“Would you agree?” Sirius finished.

Peter looked delighted. 

James clapped his hands together, tossing the stick aside. “Excellent. But you’d have to do a task for us.”

“Hazing?” Remus said, “Aren’t you kicking the puppy while it’s down?”

“No, we’re empowering the puppy to kick other people.”

“Am I this puppy?” Peter asked uncertainly.

Sirius smiled, all teeth and terrifying. “Of course. Do you want to kick other people?”

Peter’s expression was one of utter bafflement. “Not really?”

James jumped up and crossed his arms in a huge X. “Deh-deh! Wrong answer!” 

“Tsk, tsk,” Sirius tutted at him. 

Remus rolled his eyes. “What they’re saying is, you have to pick a target and prank him or her within a week from today. Don’t worry, we’ll help you.” 

“But  _ Moony _ ,” Sirius started to whine.

“We will,” Remus insisted, “All of us.”

Peter grinned like all his dreams were coming true at once.

“Oof, don’t blind us,” James complained and shielded his eyes with an arm. “Your smile is too bright; keep it under control, won’t you?”

Peter immediately clamped his mouth shut and Sirius laughed, slinging an arm over his shoulders. Sirius had to bend down quite a lot, because Peter was nearly a full head shorter. “Don’t worry buddy, you’ll fit right in.”

They ended up flooding the entire staff room with balloons that had ‘pop me’ written in black sharpie on them after the teachers had left school and the gates were locked up. The balloons were filled with different colours of ink and fake blood, and they’d made a huge mess of their clothes preparing them (which took them nearly a full week). Afterwards, Remus, Sirius and James climbed over the school gates, and Peter wriggled through a hole in the wall that was hidden by the bushes and which none of the others could fit through. 

“You’re like a mouse,” James commented.

“Or a worm,” Sirius added.

“Worms don’t have tails.”

“That doesn’t even mean anything,” Sirius complained at the same time that Remus pointed out, “Neither does Peter.”

“Oh, I know!” Sirius said suddenly, pounding his palm with a fist. “Wormtail!” 

“What?” Peter and Remus chorused.

James must have caught on, for he appeared unduly excited. “Peter, your codename is now Wormtail! Padfoot, Moony, meet Wormtail. Wormtail, meet Prongs, Padfoot and Moony.” 

It was a grand affair, Peter seemed equally perplexed and proud, and the next day the teachers came to class in various shades of colour and degrees of fury. 

They never did get found out, because Remus was very careful about not leaving any evidence and the teachers were unlikely to suspect first years when there were fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds to consider. McGonagall, however, seemed to eye them with a great amount of wariness. They managed not to laugh by sheer force of will.

After school, they slapped each other on the backs and grinned, even Remus who couldn’t forget a time when his misbehavior had been far more dangerous.

“Wormy, that idea was brilliant! The best, really. The look on McGonagall’s face…”

“And her multi-coloured clothes…”

They all dissolved into laughter again, and Remus thought:  _ this is good. This is right.  _

He didn’t want any of it to ever stop.

\--

Their first year in Hogwarts was deceptively calm. Other than that one colourful, massive operation at the start of the year, the rest of the time they were… mild. They spent the breaks between classes exploring the school, discovering hiding places, nooks and crannies. 

Hogwarts was gigantic - almost unrealistically so. It was also centuries old, and an actual castle at some point in time (which was insanely cool), so there were many secret passages that led to various wings and concealed rooms. In fact, they’d even found one behind a witch statue that could only be opened by moving a flagstone  _ how amazing is that  _ and which led out of the school.

They only used it twice, but it was good for, well, future reference. And knowledge. Knowledge is always a good thing. 

They totally didn’t plan on making use of it for nefarious purposes, nope, not at all. 

More than a few times, they’d gotten lost and ended up late to class, but it was fairly common for first year students and they’d get off with just a warning. The castle is so labyrinthine and confusing that Remus could swear sometimes it  _ changes. _

And thus, James came up with the idea to draw a map of the entire school. It was a huge undertaking, as none of them had any clue how to draw things to scale - they could hardly measure the length of all the corridors and rooms, that’d just be  _ boring  _ \- so they ended up estimating more often than not. As it turned out, Peter had a talent for cartography and an eye for distances, so most of his drawings were fairly accurate (James got tasked with the labelling, however, because Peter’s handwriting looked like a bunch of ants writhing in a fire). 

Remus did his homework, Sirius didn’t; James sped through all of his, leaving a trail of careless mistakes, and Peter mourned for the pieces of work he’d mysteriously lose all the time. They had numerous theories and excuses for that, but McGonagall regarded all of them with suspicion.

Remus read his books, kept melting chocolate in his pocket and forced himself not to feel lonely whenever his dad was out working two jobs. 

He had friends, he was doing well in school, and he was just beginning to settle into his skin. He’d stopped feeling the simmering anger that had kept him sane just a year or two ago, the itching need for violence and destruction and  _ back the hell away from me right now _ , perhaps because it was just impossible for him to be mad at James or Sirius or Peter. One of them would crack an insensitive joke, someone would smack him for it, and they’d all laugh over it and forget all about it two days later. Remus didn’t think he’d been quite so content in a long time. 

He still went to Ramona once every two months, but he could tell that the decrease in number of sessions and hence expenses was a relief to his dad. Or it could simply be that he’d finally stopped worrying as much over Remus now. Lyall was still overworked and tired, and sometimes he’d drift off in the middle of asking Remus about his day over the kitchen table, but he smiled more and he said ‘I’m glad’ often when Remus talked about Hogwarts and the Marauders. 

Remus would reply him with ‘me too’, the warmth of his father’s smile and their shared dinner filling him with hope. On those days, the empty third chair at the kitchen table didn’t sting like a fresh cut. It ached like nothing else ever would, but the wound was scabbing over and they were healing - both of them. 

Remus thought that, maybe, just maybe, his mother would be proud. 


	2. Chapter 2

Second year began with a bang, quite literally. 

A group of sixth years had set off fireworks the moment the bell rang for first period, which meant that the entire first block was declared Self Study as the teachers sorted through the mess. Naturally, no one did any self-study.

During that time, James gathered the four of them and announced, “Fellow brothers-in-arms, that,” he pointed out the window at where the fireworks had burst, “will be us in five years. In fact, we’ll be even flashier than that.” 

“Why wait so long?” Peter asked. “That can be us anytime we want to.”

“Good thinking, Pete,” Sirius agreed with a grin and a slap on his back, “We’ll be the best pranksters to ever set foot in Hogwarts.” 

“So start planning now, comrades!” James continued. “Especially you, Wormy; this General expects great things from you, Private Pettigrew!” 

“Why am I a Private?” Peter complained, “I’m your expert map-maker!” 

“Privates do not contest the General’s decisions, Mr Pettigrew,” James said with a flourish, “But in light of information that the General has been recently alerted to, you are promoted to the rank of Lieutenant, Lieutenant Pettigrew.” 

“What about me?” Remus asked in amusement. 

“Colonel Lupin,” Sirius suggested.

“Why is he higher ranked than me?” Peter wailed.

“Am I actually?” 

The others shrugged. “No clue,” Sirius said, “But I have dibs on being Co-General.” 

“Military ranks don’t work like that,” Remus pointed out, laughing. 

“Doesn’t matter, there’s no way I’m letting Jamesie outrank me.” 

“Neither am I!” Peter exclaimed, hopping up and down.

“Mutiny!” James cried, “I’m firing all of you right now.” 

“We’re all the same rank, you can’t fire us!” Peter said fiercely. 

“Peter is a good man, he deserves better for his outstanding service,” Remus said supportively. 

“Exactly! Moony is always right.” 

And thus all of them ended up with the rank of Co-General, which meant that the entire argument was void, but it did manage to while away the better part of Self Study. 

In the end, two of the sixth years were caught and given two months’ detention, but they had steadfastly refused to volunteer the names of the others. 

The Marauders wrote a poem commending their nobleness and sacrifice, framed it and sent it to Headmaster Dumbledore, who thanked the school over the PA system the next day for the ‘inspiring and truly stunning piece of art’ and to encourage more aspiring poets to gift him with ornate frames and afternoon entertainment.

“What better way to fulfill our duty of educating and nurturing the younger generation,” he’d said genially, “than to welcome any and all attempts they make at using their brains?” 

They decided not to mess with Dumbledore from then on; the man could beat anyone with confusingly passive-aggressive yet genuine weirdness.

\--

Sirius sometimes came to school with discolourations on his face or arms. In the locker room before or after Physical Education, he never changed in front of the rest of them. Remus never asked; he always changed in the private stalls as well. He had scars that he didn’t want to explain to the others.

James seemed to know the reason for Sirius’ behaviour, but kept it to himself. Once, when Peter asked about a yellowing bruise peeking out from under Sirius’ sleeve, James told him to forget it, and Sirius shot him a grateful look. Remus had never seen the sort of sorrow and helplessness that swept over James’ face before. It simply wasn’t in his nature - he was a reckless, take-action sort of bloke, someone who’d sooner try to fix the world than waste time grieving over all its imperfections - and that’s how Remus knew that whatever it was, it was bad. 

He’s twelve then, and children’s minds worked in ways that never really make sense to them once they grow up, so he didn’t think about telling a teacher or an adult, contacting authorities or anything rational like standard procedure. 

No, his friend was being hurt and that’s all he needed to know. So Remus stepped in front of Sirius after PE one day when they were exiting the private stalls and asked, “Do you want me to teach you how to fight?” 

Sirius jerked back, startled, then defensive, then awkward. He tugged at his shirt and shuffled his feet, refusing to look up at Remus. “So you figured it out?” He whispered, small and frightened and nothing at all like Sirius Black.

Remus hadn’t figured it all out, but he certainly had his suspicions. “Does it matter? I’m just offering to teach you how to fight. There doesn’t have to be any reason behind it.”

“What, do you fight for fun?” The black-haired boy laughed, bitter and dry.

“Yes, so what?” Remus hissed, acerbic. There’s anger bubbling up in him, because fighting was something he’d made a decision to leave behind and here he was, confronting it, and here Sirius was, laughing at him. He was bloody terrified and Sirius was laughing at him. “If you don’t want to, just say no.”

He spun on his heel and made to leave, when a hand caught him by the wrist. Reflexively, he twisted out of the grip, caught the other boy by the arm and shoved. Sirius went wide-eyed as panic seared through Remus’ veins. Reaching out desperately, he caught Sirius just before he would’ve gone sprawling. The force made him stumble, but neither of them fell.

Heart pounding with fear, Remus released the other boy and straightened slowly. 

“Shit,” he swore, realising what he’d done. “Oh Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.” 

He stumbled as he backed away, rushing through the locker room and ignoring James and Peter’s calls after him, keeping his head down and knowing that he’d messed all of it up. Now that Sirius knew, he was sure even James and Sirius wouldn’t want to mix with him. They were harmless and he wasn’t. 

He had a beast in his heart, and sometimes, some days, when he couldn’t keep it chained- 

The beast becomes him.

\-- 

He successfully avoided the trio for a full week afterwards. He sat in his old seat, the one at the back of the classroom beside the window, and pretended not to see any of the glances they threw his way and the pointed way McGonagall looked over her spectacles at him, then at the other three. He had chocolate and books. He was fine.

Tuesday afternoon, James cornered him with his hands palm out like he’s calming a wild animal. “Okay, so,” he started, while Remus tried to insinuate himself out of the door and away from James Potter.

“Sirius is an idiot,” James said. 

Remus hesitated. That hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear. “What?”

“He’s been miserable and he’s whining non-stop, the way he does when he’s done something he thinks is unforgivable and doesn’t know how to apologise. So I’ll apologise for him. Sirius is sorry. Can you be friends again?”

Remus’ brain cells refused to power up. “What?” he repeated.

James frowned, confused. “What?” 

“Didn’t he tell you… what happened?” 

“No.” The furrow between his brows grew deeper. “Should he have? Was it that bad?”

“He doesn’t have to apologise,” Remus said instead of answering. He meant it, but he knew James wouldn’t believe him.

“Come on, Remus. Just tell me what he did. Why’re you so mad at him?”

“I’m not mad at him,” Remus said, knowing his tone didn’t match his words because he was starting to get a little mad at James, and panicky as a result. He couldn’t lose control again. “Let me through.”

“Then who are you mad at?” James asked, in typical, stubborn James fashion. He just wouldn’t give up.

“No one.”

James looked deeply unconvinced. “Remus. I’m not stupid. Who’re you mad at?”

And God, how he wished that wasn’t true. James was brilliant - he just couldn’t be bothered with lessons and homework - and alarmingly observant at the most annoying of times, such as now. 

“Myself,” Remus snapped, refusing to meet his eyes. “Get out of the way, James.” 

Shock painting his features and rooting him to the spot, James didn’t try to stop him as Remus shouldered his bag properly, pushed him aside and slipped out of the classroom. 

\-- 

James and Peter continued to send kicked-puppy looks over his way for the next week or so, sometimes with a worried look in between or a get-your-arse-over-here look once or twice. Remus pretended not to notice. He’s great at pretending not to notice things. He also couldn’t understand why Sirius hadn’t told them about it yet, because surely then they’d either look scared or disgusted. All the other kids in primary did. 

“Moony,” he heard Sirius call after him one day during recess, and tried to speed up without looking like he was speeding up. 

“Moony, wait!” A hand wrapped around his wrist, and for a moment the déjà vu was so strong his entire body locked up. 

“Remus,” Sirius panted, looking pained and out-of-breath and a little constipated. 

Remus wondered if there was a way to run away right then without looking like a complete coward. Probably not. He contemplated running anyway, but Sirius’ fingers were still clutching tightly to his arm.

“Let me go,” he said flatly, “Or I’d make you.”

He’s fully prepared for Sirius to flinch and let go. He’s encouraging that, actually - even if it’d hurt more than a knife to the chest, at least he could convince himself that he’d intentionally pushed his first real friend away, instead of losing him over something stupid he’d done accidentally. 

Instead, all Sirius did was set his jaw, tilt his chin up and declare firmly, “No.”

“No?” 

Sirius wavered a little. “I mean, unless you’re really really mad at me and you want to sock me in the face, then I’d, like, keep myself out of socking range, but otherwise no.”

“I’m not upset with you,” Remus sighed.

“That’s good then,” Sirius said, nodding to himself, “But for the record, I’m still sorry. I don’t know what I said to make you stay away from us for two weeks but I’m sorry for whatever it is, can you hang out with us again? I miss you. By me, I mean Pete. Pete misses you a lot. Shucks, I’m terrible at apologies.”

“Why are you sorry?” The other boy replied tiredly, rubbing one hand over his face, “You didn’t do anything. I was the one who hurt you. I’m always the one hurting other people.” 

“What?” Sirius laughed, a little awkward and a little nervous, but it was still enough to make Remus bristle. “Moony, you’d never hurt me, or any of us. You wouldn’t do that. You’d never do that,” he declared, making grand gestures that must have somehow meant something in his head.

“But I pushed you. You could have fallen, and you might have hit your head or broken a bone,” he settled on saying, quietly bewildered. 

“But I didn’t,” Sirius said, sounding confused, as though he didn’t understand what the fuss was about, “You caught me so I wouldn’t fall! James doesn’t even do that when we fight; I’ve lost more than a few brain cells because of him. What’s a little roughing up between mates?” 

Remus was honestly starting to feel rattled - the conversation had taken a turn and landed in completely uncharted territory; he had no idea what was going on, what Sirius would prattle on about next, and what exactly the right response should be now.

“But the two of you don’t- you don’t mean it,” he spluttered. Sirius didn’t get it. To them, it was all in good fun; it wasn’t with the intention to make someone else bleed so that maybe it could drown out all the noise in your head. It wasn’t hateful, or angry, or mean, the way Remus felt like his fists would always be.

“Remus,” Sirius asked quietly, his grip tightening on his arm, “Did you?” 

“I-”

“Did you want to push me, or did you just react? Did you, honestly, want to hurt me?” 

A beat later, the sandy-haired boy answered hoarsely, “No.” 

“There, that makes all the difference. You can’t truly hurt someone if you didn’t mean to. Trust me; I’d know.” Sirius released him and took a step back, as though he’d said his piece and the whole matter had been resolved now. 

Remus wanted to say ‘I don’t know’, because what about all the people he had injured over the years? But the look of determination on Sirius’ face, the way he straightened like he was challenging Remus to argue with him, made Remus want to believe him more than anything else. 

“And if the offer’s still there, I’d take you up on it,” Sirius continued. 

Remus bit his lip and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re not scared of me?” He asked slowly.

“Moony, believe me, you’re badass and all, but I’m genuinely more afraid of the portrait of my great-uncle hanging in my room than I am of you,” Sirius stated, “And he’s one of my nicer great-uncles.” 

Remus managed to huff out a laugh around the lump in his throat and looked up to meet the other boy’s eyes. 

“Alright then,” he agreed, “I’d teach you how to fight.”

“That’s awesome!” Sirius enthused, grinning. “I’m going to be a lot cooler in no time at all.” 

Remus couldn’t help but smile back.


End file.
